Doomsday RE: Before the Dawn
by mdc1957
Summary: In the year 1983, in the midst of the Cold War, the world burned. But even a nuclear war couldn't end history. Not for the superpowers, the Alps or the wasteland's children in the years to come. Or the Danube. A tale of the Doomsday-verse AU from the very beginning. SwitzerlandxLiechtenstein, AustriaxHungary, OCs and implied deaths. Rated T for graphic and dark undertones. Finished
1. CH-1 - Dead Hand - Russia 1983

**Aut****hor's Notes**: After quite some time, here's a new tale for the _1983: Doomsday Stories_ AU. Or rather, this one is a "RE" remake of sorts that incorporates and rewrites some of the older fics set in the 'verse. And more specifically, focuses on Doomsday itself and the immediate aftermath. The darkness _before the dawn_, if you will.

But as a significant warning, this fic is for the most part dark and at points, graphic. Which in a cruel sense, is logical given what happens in "World War III." Aside from Russia, expect America, Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Austria and Hungary to show up eventually (along with some implied AustriaxHungary/AusHun and references to US-Russian rivalry during the Cold War).

Still, just to be on the safe side, this is a work of fiction and not intended to be a political, ideological or propaganda piece. Neither do I own Axis Powers Hetalia; all rights belong to their respective owners.

And lastly, hope you enjoy!

* * *

**_Doomsday RE: Before the Dawn_**

**Or, a 1983 Doomsday Tale through many Nations' Eyes**

CH 1 – _Dead Hand_

Undisclosed location outside Moscow, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. 1983.

It began with a warning from Serpukhov-15, a newly built military township not far from Moscow and home to one of those new-fangled satellite detectors. As Ivan Braginsky looked outside from the Mi-8 helicopter's window at the receding lights of the Soviet capital, he still wasn't sure whether to commend the operator, one Col. Gennady Akrimov, who made the call to him and the Politburo, or have him killed. _I suppose the answer will come soon enough,_ the Nation embodying Russia and the U.S.S.R. mused coldly before turning towards his fellow passenger. _It would be a shame if something were to happen over this…_

"We should be approaching the bunker now, _da_?" the Russian asked aloud, his smile refusing to betray any exhaustion or anger as the helicopter began its descent.

"_Da,_ Ivan. And if the estimates are correct, Murmansk should be hit at any moment." The old man known as Yuri Andropov nodded with a grim look on his tired face as he tried to adjust his suit. "I didn't think that those American pigs would really do it. And I won't stand idle and let socialism become atomic target practice! You know this as well."

_Too well, comrade. Just like that Hungarian cleanup in '56._ "I have accepted this. _Dasvidanya_ to the Iron Curtain and all."

Russia's smile faded ever so slightly. The Nation, like many of his own _Pravda_-reading citizens dreaded this very "worst case" scenario as much as he looked forward to the triumph of Soviet communism. _All that's left is to…nyet, something's wrong._

Surely, America and his "allies" were no doubt being childish with their resistance against the might of the proletariat. Yet even someone as young and brash as Alfred wasn't foolish enough to fire the first shots of what would be Armageddon. At least Ivan could count on the Warsaw Pact to take the full brunt. Even his dear sisters Ukraine and Belarus had pledged to support him should it come down to it. _Even if they die. All of them…_ He kept shaking his head. That wasn't it. _Why am I not feeling anything?!_

The Nation musings were cut short when his weary leader called for his attention. The helicopter had finally landed outside one of the many Kremlin shelters outside Moscow.

"It's time, Ivan," Andropov mumbled before the doors opened, revealing a throng of nervous generals, soldiers and staff standing in attention. With little delay, he stepped down towards the group, the managing to keep some semblance of order. While not a Stalin or Khrushchev, it was something Russia respected – and expected – of a man who once led the KGB.

_Especially in these times._ But as a very anxious officer approached them, he wasn't quite so sure.

"Report, _komandir_," Ivan heard his leader speak as the young man stepped forward. "What is the situation?"

The staff member cleared his throat as though it was his last, before reading what looked like a hastily typed document. "_Generalʹnyĭ Sekretarʹ_. Col. Akrimov's report w-was a-"

"Out with it!"

"It was a false alarm! A-And it appears that the United States has already launched their warheads in response. Launched _everything_ …"

Ivan didn't need to hear the rest as, with unnatural ease, he grabbed the old man by the throat. All he could sense at that point was tinge of shock and guilt in the old man's eyes as he tightly gripped the man's neck with his large hands. _Will I lose everything…everyone…FOR THIS?!_ The world seemed to stop as he coldly tossed the late, and possibly last General Secretary of the U.S.S.R., the corpse landing close to the assembled group. It took all the Nation's willpower to not to become fully consumed by the madness.

Before long however, a cold, broken smile returned to his face as he turned to the speechless bystanders. Soon enough, he gazed his eyes on the hapless young officer, fixing his long scarf as he did so.

"It appears our leader has died of a heart attack, comrade," Russia intoned matter-of-factly. "Now then, we shall head in, _da_?"

"_D-Da_, Comrade Braginsky!"

As Alfred would have put it, there was no time crying of spilled milk. _The order had already been given,_ he thought as he entered the shelter. His siblings and friends were in his eyes already condemned to the atomic fires. Perhaps some shred of the Soviet Union might survive in the Siberian tundra, once the world is done burning. Perhaps whoever will be left will unite under the banner of Marx and Lenin. Perhaps he may see his sisters someday on a field of sunflowers. _One day…_ But in the meantime, Ivan would make sure his enemies pay the price of crossing him. Dead Hand would take care of the rest.

What was certain though, glancing at the calm sky one more time, was that the Cold War was over. And that the 26th of September was soon to become an eternal, global day of infamy.

* * *

As for some reference:

The events described are largely based on the _1983: Doomsday_ articles. While Doomsday as depicted (and the stories overall) aren't at all 100% "by the book" given all the difference, I tried keeping it as true to form as possible.

Colonel Gennady Akrimov is the Russian officer who reported the nuclear alarm that sparked the events of Doomsday in the source material. His appointment in 1983 was where this AU diverges from our reality, wherein Lt. Col. Stanislav Petrov was on duty.

Serpukhov-15 is an actual Soviet-era military township built in 1982 and named after the nearby city of Sepukhov in Moscow Oblast. A designated ground station for detecting missiles and satellites, it remains operational today in real life.

Yuri Andropov was the real life General Secretary of the Soviet Union in 1983. Not only was he infamous for his KGB record, but the man was also instrumental in the USSR's victory in the Hungarian Revolution in 1956. In the source material, he reportedly died of a heart attack upon learning the truth about _Doomsday_. Here, there's a reason why "heart attack" was preferable.

Dead Hand, also known as _Perimetr_ was the Soviets' "fail-safe device for their nuclear weapons arsenal to ensure a second strike capability even if all command and control were to be destroyed." In real life, not only does it exist, but is believed to still be operational and upgraded by the Russians.

The title itself is a reference to the "Doomsday clock" which scientists devised, with "midnight" being effectively the end of the world.

_Komandir_ \- Commander (Russian)  
_Generalʹnyĭ Sekretar'_ \- General Secretary (Russian)  
_Dasvidanya_ \- "Goodbye/Farewell" (Russian)


	2. CH-2 - Midnight - America 1983

**_Doomsday RE: Before the Dawn_**

**_Or, a 1983 Doomsday Tale through many Nations' Eyes_**

CH-2 –_ Midnight_

Undisclosed location outside Washington D.C., United States of America. 1983.

_"…__President Reagan is still airborne. Confirm command is with the President…"_

_"…__Mount Weather is operational, sir. National Guard are on standby…"_

_"…__Lost contact with European Command. West Germany is silent, repeat! Good God…"_

_"…__Missiles away! Bombers have taken off. Maintain radio silence…"_

_"…__TV and radio stations are reverting to the Emergency Broadcast System…"_

_"…__I don't wanna die. Tell me this is a damn false alarm! Don't dare tell me to get my act together…"_

Alfred F. Jones pinched his nose as he forced himself to stay calm amidst the mounting din of alarms, shouting and announcements. Pacing about the middle of the chaotic control room, he gazed at the large map of North America that dominated the scene. On it, ominous dots and projected lines glowed, encroaching ever closer on U.S. soil. _To me,_ the American Nation thought with mounting dread. _It's really coming to this!_

"Mr. Jones?" one of the military officers in the control room muttered as he approached, the middle-aged man's voice barely audible amidst the alarms. "Transmissions from NORAD have ceased. From here on, we're on our own."

_Damn you, Ivan!_ America sneered in his head he attempted give an assuring grin, only to come across as unnaturally false.

"It's not like we could stop all those nukes now, Captain Richards. How much time do we have left?"

"About 10 minutes at most, sir. Possibly less. The President and his cabinet should be on evac now. But I can't say the same for everyone else..."

The middle-aged man kept droning on in forced professionalism as the panic all around them gradually turned to exhausted, silent resignation. Before them, the lines and dots continued moving ever closer to their targets. As Alfred tried to straighten out the bomber jacket he still had on over his suit, his thoughts flashed back to that Doomsday Clock a few of his scientists thought up. _And it's about to strike Midnight. God, I miss that mess with Cuba…_ Taking a deep breath, the United States of America slumped down on a chair, his blond hair momentarily covering his bespectacled eyes. There was no denying it anymore, even for someone as heroic, high and mighty as himself.

"I fucked up, didn't I?" he sighed aloud, a crooked smile on his lips. "Or maybe, we _all_ did." _No point regretting it now, is there?_

It just seemed too unbelievable, and all over some faulty early-warning signal or some Soviet officer's fatal mistake. Those were the _only_ logical explanations he or his top minds could think of for those Russian Communists to suddenly declare war with everything they had, prompting he and the rest of NATO to do exactly the same. But even if his brave men hold the line along the Iron Curtain, no matter how quickly FEMA and the National Guard could keep order in the evacuating people, it's too little, too late. All that was left now was for his own nukes to hit home. _It wasn't supposed to be like this! No-_

The Nation cringed, as he felt a torrent of pain, his eyes glancing at the map and screens. He didn't need to see the monitors blinking out one by one to know what was going on. Boston. New York. Washington. Chicago. Los Angeles. _All…gone…_ How many of his towns and cities, he wondered, as well as the people living there would die for all this? Would it be from the first flashes, fallout or the complete chaos that would certainly follow? He thought of the many lives, human and Nation alike, whose death warrants he had already signed with the push of a button. The very idea of England, Canada and his other friends being killed, of the world ending in something straight out of his worst nightmares shook him to the core. _They'll all be gone...damn it. Fuck it, DAMN THOSE BASTARDS!_

"Five minutes. Is anything wrong, sir?"

The sound of Captain Richards' voice snapped Alfred back to reality as he gave a weak semblance of his trademark smirk. For the first, and possibly last time, he wasn't sure about anything.

"It-It's nothing at all," America replied as he struggled to stand up. "Just wondering whether we did the right thing."

"That's MAD for you, Mr. Jones," the officer nodded in shaking, if barely concealed sarcasm. "No point cursing whoever the hell thought of it. But at least we'll take those Commie sons of bitches out along with us, right?"

The normally upbeat blond nodded solemnly in agreement. There was barely any time left for regret anyway. In all likelihood, the nuclear fires would remove this facility and whatever traces that a person named "Alfred F. Jones" ever existed. The rest of the world, or whatever's left once it's over, may come to resent his memory as a Nation. The American Dream spited for bringing about the apocalypse. But the memory, he convinced himself, would remain among his people in the trials ahead. That good old freedom, hard work and democracy would endure in some form for whoever survives. _Maybe they might even build a better country than I was._

Even now, he could see it the strained, resigned faces of the operators and officers around him. Surely the Dream could endure even a nuclear winter. _Even if I don't_. The Nation forced back the urge to just cry and hug everyone, telling them that everything would be fine, as much as he wanted to.

"You guys," he muttered. "I'm so s-"

"You did your best. We all did," he heard Richards interrupt, finally standing in attention to give a crisp salute. Before long, even as the alarms continued ringing over the chamber, the others did the same.

"It's been an honor serving this country, Mr. Jones," one of the other operators added with a sad smile. In the face of the Bomb, their eyes still showed a glimmer of pride and resilience that had created the United States in the first place. At least in in their eyes, the Nation was still the great hero and for him they would die with honor. "God bless America."

The embodiment felt utterly overwhelmed, managing to give one final, youthful grin before a loud rumbling was heard, causing the ceiling to cave in. The next thing the Nation saw was a radiant flash. One brighter than the Sun.

It was the last image he saw. But the smile remained to the very end.

* * *

As for some reference:

The chapter is based on and rewritten from an earlier version called _An American Twlig__ht._

The Mount Weather Emergency Operations Center, or Mount Weather for short is a real-life Civil Defense (later, FEMA) complex and command shelter for the US Government, built in 1959 and still in operation. In both the source material and Doomsday-verse, Mount Weather was one of the many designated shelters for then-President Reagan and his cabinet.

It's also mentioned in the source material that they would leave North America for good on a long perilous flight to Australia not long after, along with the remaining soldiers, staff and families they could bring along, leaving behind a seemingly dying wasteland. The evacuation led to Reagan's death, with then-Vice President George Bush going on to lead the American exiles until fully submitting to Australian authority in the mid-1990s.

Mutually Assured Destruction, also known as "MAD" is a real life Cold War principle meant to deter the Americans and Soviets from nuking each other, for the fear that both sides would be wiped out. While the Doomsday Clock mentioned is a symbolic timer first devised by an American scientific think-tank in the late 1940s and meant to show how close humanity is to nuclear destruction. Thus "a few seconds to Midnight" is another way of saying "the end is nigh."

Lastly, the source material describes several Survivor-Nations and remnant States emerging from the ashes of the American wastelands in the decades after. Including a group of surviving communities and State officials in the Midwest who go on build a Provisional United States in 1992, in memory of their long-dead country.


	3. CH-3 - Alpine Bonds - Switzerland 1985

**_Doomsday RE: Before the Dawn_**

**Or, a 1983 Doomsday Tale through many Nations' Eyes**

CH-3 – _Alpine Bonds_

Outskirts of Vaduz, Principality of Liechtenstein. 1985.

"Is there any news from the outside world, _Brüetsch_?" Vash Zwingli heard his sister ask as she adjusted her utensils. "It's been two years since then."

As much as the embodiment of Switzerland – and one-half of the newly forged Austro-Swiss Union – attempted to feign a shrug of rough indifference, he couldn't quite pull it off. _Can't hide it in front of you, Lilli,_ he thought while shaking off more uncomfortable thoughts. _Never, to you._

"_Ja_, I know," the Nation sighed with frustration. "It's nothing that you haven't heard by now. Radiation counts are still high out there. The border garrisons have their hands full dealing with the refugee camps and keeping those wastelands from getting here. Not like we'll be seeing our so-called neighbors anytime soon. Even if those rumors of Yugoslavia are true, it's not _our_ fault they're killing each other!" _Or the ones with Hungary…_

"At least _Onkel_ Roderich's doing well," the young lady known to her people as the Principality of Liechtenstein smiled gently. "Thanks to you."

The Swiss blond however continued to fume, making an effort to avoid slamming his fists on the table. "That damn Austrian could carry his aristocratic weight a bit more! And _bitte_, don't get me started with the radio. Can't get _anything_ on it with all the interference! For all we know, we might as well be the _only_ ones left in Europe!"

Vash forced himself to stop, afraid to snap at his sister. _Or bring up certain things best left behind._ The surroundings, however, made it more difficult to calm down. Despite having long gotten used to such places, he still found it a tad unnerving to visit his dear Liechtenstein in her personal bunker. Surrounded as they were by rows of cabinets, military-grade transmitters, and a map of the Alps plastered haphazardly on gray concrete. All in stark contrast to the simple yet well-kept hamlet above. As much as he was proud of her readiness and preparation, it did little to ease his mind at that point.

Looking away, his eyes focused on the half-finished meal before him. Even though their dinner was little more than spare rations, it almost felt like a luxury. A throwback to better days, before America and Russia's "Cold War" ended in nuclear fire. Compared to the convoluted alliances and connections that dragged much of the world into hell, Alpine neutrality largely spared them. But not from the martial law, riots, poisoning and refugee crises that for a time seemed to threaten their very survival. _Not to mention having to save Roderich from those damn Soviet invaders. For nuking Wien. Or…Gott, Nein…_

Switzerland's mind once more returned to the harsh answers all the Alpine Nations agreed upon. Despite what the Nation kept telling himself, the things he did were swift and cold even for someone like himself. Closing off the borders. The mass lockdowns. Forcing out "excess" refugees at gunpoint. Even ordering his men to do what it takes to stabilize Austria. _Even if it meant burning his memorabilia. It…It was for the best. It has to be for the best! Right?!_

"_Verdammt!_" he swore aloud, his fists nearly causing the table to collapse even as he strained to take a deep breath.

"_Brüetsch?_ Is something the matter?"

Looking up, he was surprised to find Liechtenstein was already standing beside him, her delicate, somewhat tarnished hands gently folding over his. How she managed to pull it off, let alone sense his anxiety so quickly was something he was willing to accept without question. Only to notice once more just how much she hadn't slept well in months, even if her weathered dress and ribbon still seemed impeccable. But neither could he shake off the feeling that she seemed taller and even a bit _older_ than before, as if her Principality's growing influence was making her blossom despite the turmoil. Still, just as before, he couldn't lie to her. _Not now._

"_Schwöschter_?" he asked, swallowing his pride even as his voice seemed to wilt. "Did we do the right thing all along? Or are we fooling ourselves and we're oblivious to the damn joke. _Mein Gott,_ to think we're leaving them to die out in that nuclear hell!"

"Even if we wanted to let it all be, those poor souls would have overwhelmed us in a matter of months, perhaps even _weeks_," she explained calmly. Though her seemingly innocent smile on her face didn't waver, there was a much more assertive, iron tone to her otherwise soft voice. "There's barely enough to sustain our own peoples, even now. To do what had to be done – to them, to _Onkel_ Roderich, was the best option out there. After all, we didn't start the fire. And besides, didn't you say that we only have ourselves to look after?"

This stunned Vash more than anything. _But you're right about it. All of it!_ The Nation sighed as he gazed into his adopted sibling's eyes. The same girl he's known for centuries, and the same one he welcomed into his heart back in the Great War. His equal and partner, despite what differences they may have. _Maybe even more…_

"_Tuet mer Leid_. For our peoples' sake. _Ja,_ it had to be done. But at least we're safe. _You're_ safe, Lilli. And I'll always be here for you."

They stayed silent for a moment, the sound of static from countries that no longer existed humming faintly. Then, to his complete surprise, the Swiss embodiment felt his sister's lips touch his. As her arms wrapped around his torso, all he could do was return the favor, welcoming her innocent lips with abandon. His more rational mind flickered on for a moment, insisting that this was wrong somehow. Only to shrug it off, if for a while.

"The feeling's mutual, _Brüetsch_." Lilli whispered, blushing as they broke the kiss to catch her breath. "_Ich liib dich._"

The Nation nodded warmly in return. _The world can wait! This may not be so bad after all._ Whatever may happen to them, to Austria or even to the wastelands of Europe in this brave new world, at least still had each other. There was no turning back.

And at the back of their minds, they didn't want to.

* * *

As for some reference:

The chapter is based on and rewritten from an earlier version called _An Unexpected Union_.

According to the source material, Vaduz was also made the capital of what would in time become the Alpine Confederation, making Liechtenstein's role more important as somewhat the "first among equals" center of it all. Which could explain why she physically grows up a bit more.

The "Austro-Swiss Union" is an earlier version of the Confederation before Liechtenstein joined in 1997. Austria was mentioned as, despite being neutral, being invaded by Soviet soldiers just after the nuclear destruction of Wien/Vienna in Doomsday. With Swiss aid, the Soviets were defeated. Unfortunately, most of the survivors fled to the already dying Hungary, becoming the warlords and bandits roving the Hungarian Wastes. While Switzerland made a point to ensure that Austria is stable...by all means necessary. Including the convenient "destruction" of certain memorabilia.

The source material also mentioned that around this time, the countries of Yugoslavia (which also more or less survived the initial Doomsday attacks) were in civil war. Though it's wouldn't be surprising for the Alpines see it as "destroying themselves."

As an added note, the real life dynamics of Switzerland and Liechtenstein are _very_ much like close siblings.

_Brüetsch_ \- Brother (Swiss German)  
_Schwöschter_ \- Sister (Swiss German)  
_Mein Gott_ \- "My God..." (German)  
_Onkel_ \- "Uncle" (German)  
_Tuet mer Leid_ \- "I'm sorry" (Swiss German)  
_Ich liib dich_ \- "I love you" (Swiss German)


	4. CH-4 – Loyal Daughter - Sopron 1989

**_Doomsday RE_: Before the Dawn**

**_Or, a 1983 Doomsday Tale through many Nations' Eyes_**

CH-4 – _Loyal Daughter_

Somewhere in Sopron/Ödenburg, Austrian Frontier Territory. 1989.

The young girl had no idea _where_ she was. But there were loud, inhuman screams everywhere, more than she could count. The walls surrounding her, which looked as though they'd fall down at any minute, also seemed to close in ever so slowly. She didn't want to be here.

"Don't be afraid," the little girl mumbled to herself in Hungarian, more nervous than confident as she found it harder to breathe. It wasn't the first time this had happened. After so many times, she shouldn't be scared of whatever's trying to break through that door. "Come on, think! They won't take me!" Frantically, she looked all around her for something to use against _them_. Everything she touched however seemed to crumble.

_Nem…Trapped…_ The thought made her panic inside. She couldn't back down. _I shouldn't! There's gotta be a way out of here!_ Before long, a dark mass of nothing began tearing through the door. The voices became clearer as it began creeping into her skin, rotting her from within. Russian screams. People shouting. Dying. Talking of finishing her off like Hungary. _But Mama can't be dead! NEM! I won't give in. Won't give in. Won't give in! WON'T GIVE IN! I CAN'T! I CAN'T! Mama…Papa…Remélem! HELP!_

Then all of a sudden, there was to be a piercing, yet strangely comforting cry. _Gyermekem,_ a familiar voice echoed. _You're not an orphan. Never will be!_

The next thing the girl knew, she found herself, sweating on an old, creaking bed as she sat up, muted sunlight still coming from the windows. Winching, she noticed that there was no one else around. And yet there was a strange feeling that _someone_ was close. Briskly, she turned her head towards what looked like a faint wisp. Except that no one was there.

"Another nightmare's over," the young child going by the name Julia assured herself aloud as a faint smile crossed her face. "At least I'm still here." _And yet I swore I knew that voice…_

Getting out of bed, the girl took a worn-out flute from her bedside before sitting by the window closest to her. She was still tired from earlier in the day. Not just from playing hide-and-seek with the other orphans, the food rations from those soldiers or that trip to the nurse. _More than those, yet I still had fun._

Gingerly toying with her instrument before coughing, Julia looked out at the street crossing outside her orphanage and the town surrounding her. _Hungary's ever loyal town,_ she recalled, coughing even as tears started to well up. _Mama's pride and joy…_ Many of the buildings across from her were either grimy or broken down, the worse ones seemingly held together by iron planks. But a few withered window-side flowers and the partly burnt Firewatch Tower not far off still spoke of the beauty this place once had in the Old World. _And will again someday…right?_ While the road below still hummed with people. Tired soldiers in Austrian uniforms and local folks walking amidst rusting cars. Kids playing with makeshift toys on the sidewalk while a line of older people tapered off into the distance to some food camp. Despite their ragged looks, many of them still lived day after day in the hope that tomorrow would get better. Something that she shared – and felt with all of the Frontier's people.

_My people…_ Even the orphanage's caretakers were noticing that she still looked the same way she did when they brought her in. In fact, she barely got older while the other orphans around her _did_. But though she couldn't quite explain it nor her true age, the Survivor-Nation always knew who and _what_ she was. Those people out there were all her and she was all of them. _They'll make it, I'm sure! I am Sopron after all!_ She grinned warmly at that. Then, with deft hands, she put the flute's mouthpiece close. And began playing.

Julia always liked music for some reason. A part of her mused that it could have been from her parents long ago. Murky, half-remembered memories from a time before two great lands plunged the world in flames and the great swarms of bandits who ravaged in their wake, an event some have called Doomsday. No one knew who started it, and the answer depended on the person. Still, she was sure that they'd all been separated at some point. Come to think of it, things only started becoming clearer shortly after those dark times, almost as if she hadn't been entirely whole until then. But as her song went on, its melody echoing outside, she stopped, almost dropping the instrument. _So familiar…_

"I've heard this before!"

Her mind seemed to wind back to the oldest memory she had. Of a man in glasses playing on a beautiful piano, whose face she couldn't quite remember. Of being held on her mother's arms as she sang that very song to her. It usually made her feel down, afraid of what really happened to her and the family she lost. Scared of the untamed wastelands beyond - and the nagging void that always seemed to gnaw at her from the inside. But continuing the melody in her head and despite her pained exhaustion getting the better of her again, the girl nonetheless began muttering the lyrics.

"_Csíja búja, búja, gyönyörű magzatom,  
aludj el, aludj el, gyönyörű csillagom…_"

Once more, she stopped, her flute dropping to the floor as her body finally gave in. Her eyes however still managed to catch a glimpse a group of Austrians pause on the street below. A strange man among them, in an old, dusty looking outfit seemed to glance at her direction. For a brief moment, she thought there was something oddly familiar with his brown hair and glasses. It was a moment that passed soon as he turned away, muttering something in German that she couldn't quite make out. Julia yawned as her sight began blurring. But as she saw a caretaker approach to bring her back to bed, a familiar voice finished her song.

"_Ótson el az angyal, kőtsön fel a hajnal,  
aludj el, aludj el, gyönyörű virágom._"

Instead of some darkened void or a corpse, Sopron caught a glimpse of a beautiful woman in a country dress. She couldn't really describe it, but something about her seemed so warm. So familiar about the figure's face, her gentle green eyes and a radiant flower on her hair that brought about a beaming smile on her face.

"M-Mama?"

The vision vanished as soon as it began. No one would believe her if even if said anything now. Yet as the young girl was laid down, her eyes closing again, she still smiled.

Her land, her people remained at the brink even with the help of those Austrians. Much work was left to be done for the Survivor-Nation. But there was still tomorrow. For one day, things would get better. The big mess of Doomsday would fade. And perhaps, she'd be able to see her parents again.

_Wouldn't want to worry her too much,_ the young child of Hungary thought as she found herself in a vast green plain. Somehow, she had a feeling that her mother would see her again. And not just in her dreams.

Very soon.

* * *

As for some reference:

The chapter is based on and rewritten from an earlier version called _A Child of Hungary, _which also features the Survivor-Nation OC, Julia, aka Sopron. Whose land and people at this point were recently brought under Austro-Swiss protection, eventually becoming part of the Alpine Confederation.

Some of the bleaker moments were based both on what happened to both Austria and Hungary during Doomsday itself and the events of _An Ocean of Flame Above_. Especially how she died.

The Firewatch Tower is a real historical landmark in Sopron dating back to the middle ages. Although it gained additional importance due to it becoming associated with the town's "loyalty" towards Hungary. Likewise, its title as "Hungary's ever loyal town" in part stems from Sopron's controversial plebiscite in 1921 to remain part of Hungary at the end of World War I with the collapse of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, even when much of the surrounding land became part of today's Burgenland state in Austria.

The Hungarian lyrics were taken from an old Hungarian lullaby called _Csija buja_, which was included in the European Choral Association's "Lullabies of the World" project. In Hungarian and English, the lyrics are:

_Csíja búja, búja, gyönyörű magzatom,  
aludj el, aludj el, gyönyörű csillagom.  
Ótson el az angyal, kőtsön fel a hajnal,  
aludj el, aludj el, gyönyörű virágom._

_Sleep, my beautiful child,  
sleep, my lovely star.  
May the angel rock you to sleep,  
and the red dawn awaken you._

_Remélem_ \- "Please God..." (Hungarian)  
_Gyermekem_ \- "My Child..." (Hungarian)  
_Nem_ \- "No" (Hungarian)


	5. CH-5 – Reluctant Dawn - Austria 1993 End

**_Doomsday RE: Before the Dawn_**

_**Or, a 1983 Doomsday Tale through many Nations' Eyes**_

CH-5 – _Reluctant Dawn_

Salzburg-Altstadt, Republic of Austria/Austro-Swiss Union. 1993.

Roderich Edelstein wrapped his old greatcoat tighter as he and his Alpine counterpart walked towards the Domplatz. Not many people were out, neither locals nor tourists. _Then again,_ the Austrian embodiment noted wryly while keeping pace with as much dignity as could be mustered. _This is what passes for normal now._ To be sure, the relative lack of foreign visitors was a given, as most of their places of origin were long gone. But today was different. Most of Salzburg's remaining citizens were converging on a quiet hamlet not far from the city. _One that I had just visited as well._ He frowned as he recalled the sight. Not that it showed, despite a faint sigh.

"_Danke schon_ for coming, Vash," he finally muttered, turning to the Swiss blond. "It is good to know as well that your sister will come with her Prince soon. Though I must admit it surprising that _you_ went at all when my own leaders in Linz would not on such short notice. Your cantons have no love for the Habsburgs. You even _fought _them."

"They're _our_ people now, remember?" Switzerland shot back, though with a knowing nod. "Besides, as much as I sympathize, this is just out of concern for you as much. Nothing more. Now then, we have other matters…"

The bespectacled Austrian shrugged as they continued walking past the faded if still stately arches that surrounded the square. In the various news postings still scattered about, word had spread that Otto von Habsburg, heir to the long-abandoned Imperial Throne was gravely ill. Despite outlasting the Cold War, in spite of surviving the nightmare people called Doomsday, death was finally catching up to the would-be monarch. _10 years. Has it been that long? _While the Nation refused to show it outright, it pained him deeply. For soon, that old man would take with him the last living ties to the old _Ausgleich_. And thanks to an event that for the first and only time united much of humanity in flames, would die without ever reuniting both sides of an Iron Curtain that no longer existed. _With…her. Just like his father. I can't let their loss be for nothing. I won't let this world take away…_

"Roderich? _Verdammt, _are you deaf?!"

It was then that he noticed an irritated, flustered look from the Alpine's face. Still, it didn't take more than a moment for generations' worth of discipline and composure to mask whatever threatened to surface in the former aristocrat. As much as he wanted to pass it off as being the result of exhaustion or stress, even he recognized that it was becoming more difficult to hold back. _Can't lose control. Never again._

"_Bitte,_ I beg your pardon, _Herr_ Zwingli," Austria retorted as they approached a battered jeep close to the marble Immaculate Column. Only to notice too late that voice had more strained bitterness than he intended. "My thoughts were on –_other_ matters of national and personal interest."

"If it's about Sopron," Vash frowned "I can't spare anymore resources for your glorified refugee camp. My bosses may have vowed to aide those pitiful Tuscan survivors, but I'm not about to let some Mafia lunatics cross our doorstep! You'd think the damn bombs would take those mobsters-"

"_Our_ bosses in Bern, you mean, _Herr_ Zwingli," he interrupted, finding it harder to maintain his calm façade as he loosened his cravat. "Even if the rumors about Romano being alive and backing those scum are true, would not our leaders' priorities be better placed _closer_ to home? All I – _mein volk_ are asking for is more solidarity with those Magyars. I can only do so much at this point." _If Elizaveta's daughter really is out there…If she herself is out there…Gott, has to be..._

"Do you even listen to yourself? Are you _still_ obsessed with that decadent Empire?! Look around you. The Old World is _gone_. We were _there_ when it ended! _Verdammt,_ even Doomsday itself is history now! Surely you've seen what Russia and America's minions did! Besides, that Communist whore is just as dead as most everyone else on this forsaken globe!"

_Nein. She can't be. LIAR!_ Without uttering a sound, Austria coldly reached to grab his fuming companion by the collar, stopping short of it with a speed that shocked even himself. They paused at that, the two Nations staring sharply at each other as Switzerland sneered. As much as Roderich was grateful for his aid and support since that fateful day 10 years ago, there was no doubt on who was truly in charge of the so-called "Austro-Swiss Union." On who had emerged stronger in the changed, wasted world Doomsday left behind. Something neither neutrality nor centuries of lost glories prepared him for. A part of him wanted to strangle the Alpine right there and then.

_But…Gott, nein, that isn't me! It CANNOT be me!_ Dazed, at long last he stepped back. All things considered, Vash was right. From his antiquated dress and mannerisms to his very being, the Nation remained a walking relic. It was part of who and what he was. _Ja, perhaps that cannot change. But surely I can do more! I can do my duties. I can still…save her…I…have to…_

Austria found it harder to concentrate as exhaustion slowly began to overwhelm him, something which had become more common for him. For a brief moment, he thought he saw a peculiar bird perched on top of the column, its green eyes gazing at him. Weakly turning back to Vash however, he noticed the Swiss blond's cold glare giving way to a tired shrug, a glimmer of sympathy in the man's cold eyes as he opened the jeep's door. "_Tut mir Leid _Roderich. It's been a long day for both of us. But know this. We have only ourselves to look after. Always _have_. It's time to smell the ashes."

"_Ja_," he sighed faintly before entering the vehicle, glancing momentarily at a column, the bird still there. "Perhaps. _Danke._ And let us never speak of this again."

Deep down however, as Roderich sat down, he still hoped. That he and his people too would find solace in this new, dawning age. That one day, a family that never came to be could be together at last. That generations yet to be would learn from his time's failure. Let the stirrings of vengeance and retribution for superpowers long-gone lie. Whoever started this Hell could burn for all he cared. So long as he could still reach for that hope, however distant, the former aristocrat was willing to resist the simmering turmoil within. _A better…tomorrow…_

For a moment, just as he was closing his eyes, the Nation heard what seemed like a faint whisper. One whose words and voice sounded oddly familiar.

"Don't give up, _Szerelem_. Please."

But the moment had passed. Despite himself, however, a faint smile crossed his face before finally sliding into the one realm that, however shaky it was, remained his. Where a new symphony could perhaps begin.

And in time, it too shall pass. _One day._

-_**ENDE**_-

* * *

As for some reference:

This was based on the early Doomsday-verse fic _Her Guarding Arm_. As it's a redone version of one scene from that Hungary-centric tale from Austria's perspective. At the same time, in addition to foreshadowing his future role in the Alpine Confederation and his ultimate fate, as well as the events later on in the Doomsday-verse. This also means, however, that Switzerland's actions and words betray the truth about part of Austria's desperate hole and clinging to a lost past.

Salzburg is one of the classic, main cities of Austria. At various points in its history, it has been a medieval fortress town, seat of a Catholic bishop, birthplace of Mozart, Habsburg enclave, cultural center, setpiece for _The Sound of Music_ and many others. Its Old Town (_Salzburg-Altstadt_) is considered a UNESCO Heritage Site in real life. With its Domplatz and the Immaculate Column in the middle of it well-renowned.

The late Otto von Habsburg (1912 - 2011) in real life was the man who would have been Emperor of Austria-Hungary. In the Doomsday source material, he's mentioned to have survived the chaos, only for his son Karl to succeed him at some point. Unfortunately for him, Doomsday had destroyed whatever plans he had for bringing Austria and Hungary back together and tearing down the Iron Curtain (such as the real life Pan-European Picnic in Sopron in 1989).

The _Ausgleich_, also known as the Austro-Hungarian Compromise of 1867 was the series of reforms that formally made the Dual Monarchy of Austria-Hungary a reality. Depending on the sources, it's normally dated to either March 30 (the beginning), May 29 (the formal ratification) or June 8 (the final declaration and coronation). I guess headcanon and Hetalia make use of the June 8 in particular as Austria and Hungary's "Wedding Day," explaining why that date means so much to the Nation.

The "Tuscan survivors" are a reference to the Survivor-Nation of Tuscany, which around this time is being invaded by Sicily/South Italy in the source material. And the Alpines aren't keen in having a distant, Mafia-controlled country running around close to home.

_Danke schon_ \- "Thank you" (German; formal form)  
_Mein volk_ \- "My people" (German)  
_Tut mir Leid_ \- "I'm Sorry" (German)  
_Szerelem_ \- "Love" (Hungarian)

...And lastly, I hope you enjoyed reading this fic as much as I did writing it!


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